


I'm Sorry Boris except Boris is a teenage blond called Tommy who doesn't forgive, doesn't forget

by ChipperChemical



Series: Dream SMP stuff [7]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Does anyone truly know how to tag? No., Gen, Richmond’s still shit, Tommy is sad, any filterers in chat?!?!?! pogchamp, honestly a whole ass mood, i get that y’all are sleepy stans but you need to stop sleeping on Your City Gave Me Asthma, should probably tag that for the filters, such a good album?? it’s so weirdly aesthetically comforting, the equivalent of taking something you love and burning it to ashes: the fic, them but make it angst, written during MCC10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChipperChemical/pseuds/ChipperChemical
Summary: Eyes blurred with tears and a heart full of sorrowful songs, Tommy reached towards the closing train doors, simply watching as Wilbur left, bumbling along to some other place, not even taking a final look back as he disappeared behind a turn in the rail.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Dream SMP stuff [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181660
Comments: 2
Kudos: 118





	I'm Sorry Boris except Boris is a teenage blond called Tommy who doesn't forgive, doesn't forget

**Author's Note:**

> certified bruh moment

Wilbur is an immovable object.

"What do you mean, you're leaving?!" Tommy shouted, shoving away the promising prick of tears behind his eyes as he stared at Wilbur, nothing but unbridled betrayal on his face.

"Look—" Wilbur went to offer an explanation, but bit back, not wanting to hurt the broken boy further, "—I'm sorry, Tommy. I'm leaving."

"But why?! Why?" Tommy exclaimed, not caring for the scattered people waiting around the train station, mostly minding their own business or only glancing over to make sure things weren't getting out of hand.

"I'm not good for anyone here, Tommy." Wilbur's tone softened, rounded around the edges, and Tommy gritted his teeth, desperately not understanding just why.

"But— But I need you, big man!" Despite knowing damn well it wouldn't work, some part of Tommy hopelessly held onto the wish that somehow, someway, Wilbur would come to his fucking senses, "You're good for us!"

"Look around: we've reached the end of the decade, and everything's changed." Wilbur explained unsatisfyingly, a sorrowful smile playing on his lips as he let out a sad laugh, "Well, I guess Richmond's still shit, but—"

"I can't believe that you're leaving." Tommy shook his head disbelievingly, looking to the monochrome ground and balling his fists, taking a swallow before trying to relax again. Wilbur mimicked his actions, looking down and sighing with half-lidded eyes.

"I can't believe that I'm leaving." He echoed, bringing himself to look up at Tommy, who gave up on trying to hold back his tears, "I don't think I want to leave you."

"No! Please! You've—" Tommy choked, looking up at Wilbur with attempted anger, but only managing a pitiful spark, "—You're a brother to me, Will. Please."

"I really don't want to leave you here. They're awful. They'll make you do awful things before they offer you help." Wilbur continued, blocking out Tommy's pleas in favour of blissful ignorance. Well, it didn't feel as good as he hoped, but it was better than submitting himself to the broken cries.

"But I can deal with that with you! C'mon, Wilbur." Tommy tried — _god, he tried_ — but Wilbur was too determined, looking to the side as he head the familiar hum of a train approaching. The people who'd been sat idly finally stood, grabbing their suitcases or pulling on their jackets to ready for their departure, "Think about your lovers! Colleagues! Best friends, enemies! Please!"

"I don't think I want to leave them." Wilbur whispered, looking at Tommy for what might be the final time before turning and facing the opening carriage. He didn't linger on it. He didn't tend to linger on many things.

Tommy called out, but Wilbur couldn't focus on the words, simply continuing to shuffle to the train, blocking out any sounds around him and just facing the tube, stepping inside and not even sparing a look back as the doors slid shut behind him, taking a deep breath before slumping on one of the (honestly disgusting) seats.

As the train hummed to life, speeding through the tunnels like a bandit on the run, Wilbur let himself relax, absently looking out the window. He imagined what Tommy was doing as he left, maybe chasing after the train like one of those cliché movies that Tubbo always forced him to watch, maybe just stood there disbelievingly, not sure exactly what to do with himself. Wilbur sung softly, watching the quickly passing lights amongst the darkness.

"I figured out what can move me."

Wilbur sighed.

"It's trains and hugs, planes and Tommy."

**Author's Note:**

> now go listen to the whole Your City Gave Me Asthma album on a rainy Thursday evening or i’ll implode the internet loser


End file.
